Faceless (35 page)

‘And as for my mother, if Tiff is like her then so am I. We come from the same stock, remember.’

He walked from the room and Ossie shook his head sadly at his wife.

‘We have to do this, Verbena, the boy needs to help his family.’

‘I’m his family … We are his family.’

Ossie shook his head again, his handsome face troubled.

‘Supposing we could have had kids of our own and had a

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daughter who’d turned out like Tiffany - would you turn your back on her?’

Verbena lit a cigarette and drew on it deeply. ‘We would never have had a child who turned out like that.’

Ossie laughed nastily.

‘No? What about John and Mary Thompson then? Their son is a heroin addict who has been in rehab more times than I can count and has actually robbed them. But they don’t give up on him and he was their birth child. No one can guarantee what a child will turn out like, Verbena. Remember that. That boy had everything a child could want, including an expensive private education, but he still turned out a thief, a liar and a drug addict.

‘And what about the Rawlings - the mother is addicted to painkillers, has been for years. Laura Rawlings is an addict, for all her high talk and expensive education. Verbena, it happens. No one wants it to but at least Tiffany is trying to make things better.’

His wife just looked at him. Her eyes were pain-filled and her mouth was trembling ominously.

‘I spoke fo a solicitor. He said the boy has every right to ask for his sister’s child. No one else is available. No one else wants the poor little mite.’

Jason had been standing outside the door and came inside once more, his face set as it had been when he was a little boy determined to get his own way.

‘Please, Mum. Do this for me? She’s a lovely little girl.’

His expression was implacable and Verbena knew if she didn’t do what he wanted she would lose a part of him for ever. He was asking her for something so big she knew instinctively that if she let him down now it would seriously affect their relationship.

‘I promised my sister I would try and help and I intend to keep that promise, whatever.’

Ossie was proud of his son, saw the man he would become and felt grateful that Jason was a part of his life.

Verbena tried to smile but it was more of a grimace.

‘Looks like my mind has been made up for me, doesn’t it?’

Jason hugged her close and his touch was worth everything to her. She would do whatever she had to do to make her son happy.

Ossie hugged them both, his big arms encompassing them, and Verbena prayed that she could take to the child. Because she was the one who would be with her all the time and both the men in the house had forgotten that fact.

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Patrick sat outside Sadie Beasley’s house with his music blaring. Her mother looked out from behind the net curtain and cursed under her breath.

Sadie was a pretty girl with long dark hair and deep brown eyes. She had olive skin, the legacy of an Italian grandmother, a high-breasted body with slim legs and a tiny waist. Her mother was frightened for her. She was only sixteen years old and already she was a handful.

Sadie came into the room.

‘I’m going out.’

Mabel Beasley shook her head.

‘No, you bleeding well ain’t. Not with that black bastard anyway!’

Sadie laughed without a care in the world.

‘Get a life, Mother, for crying out loud. What you going to do, stop me?’

She was ridiculing her mother and they both knew it.

‘I mean it, girl …’

Sadie walked from the room and Mabel felt the frustration of a mother who had completely lost control of her child. Tears of rage and fear filled her eyes as she watched her lovely daughter get into the car of the local hard man and drug dealer, Patrick Connor. He would ruin her without a second’s thought, without remorse, but Sadie was too stupid to see that.

If only her husband was still around, he would have stopped Sadie going out. But he was up north somewhere with his bird, a girl hardly ten years older than the daughter he had walked out on without a backward glance. The daughter he had once professed to love more than anything in the world.

Was it any wonder the girl was running the streets with Patrick Connor? He offered her everything that life had so far denied her and she was too young and starry-eyed even to suspect that some day soon she’d have to start paying him back.

Alan Jarvis saw Marie pull up in Mikey’s Mere and felt his heart sink down to his boots. Mikey must have picked her up from the hostel and that smacked of some kind of ongoing arrangement between them. Mikey lived out in that big mausoleum in Essex so he’d have had to get up early to go and pick her up from the halfway house.

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Seeing them together made Alan angry. What did Mikey Devlin have that he didn’t? He had asked himself this question over and over in the last few days. He didn’t care that Marie had the rep she had: prostitute, thief, drug addict, murderess. The list was endless, yet he would give anything to have her look at him just once as a potential lover. But it wasn’t going to happen, and he could not for the life of him understand why he cared so much. He thought about her all the time and obviously Mikey did the same. Devlin had once remarked that he wouldn’t get out of bed for less than ten kilos. Now he was getting out of bed to give a bird a lift to work.

That told Alan all he needed to know and he was gutted. Devlin was too heavy for him, far too heavy. Anyone else and he might have tried to interfere.

Marie must be off her head if she thought she could handle Mikey Devlin, the biggest nutter this side of the water. He was worried for her on top of everything else. Devlin exacted a price for everything he did to help someone and it was usually far higher than the person he’d dealt with had anticipated.

‘Listen, Marie, I promise I will find out what I can. He’ll be charged then held on remand. I can’t see him getting bail, especially not at Magistrates’ Court. The ponces are renowned for not having the guts to give it. We’ll see how it goes at Crown. If push comes to shove we’ll request judge in chambers, but don’t get your hopes up, OK?’

She nodded. ‘I can’t believe Dad did that. Killing Petey of all people! He was just a prat. It was Karen who was behind the fire, not her husband.’

Mikey personally couldn’t give a toss, but he knew better than to say that.

‘Petey had it coming to him. I think your father done a good thing. I’d have done the same if someone crisped up any of my family. You can’t let people get away with that! They’d start to think they could do what the fuck they liked. When you deal with a nutter, you have to be a bigger nutter. It’s how the world works. Our world anyway.

‘Now stop worrying. I’ll call me brief and see what can be done. If he goes to the ‘Ville I have a few faces in there who can give him an easy sit, OK?’

Marie nodded. Once more someone else’s actions had turned her world upside down, but she knew what lay behind her father’s

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rashness. All his trouble stemmed from her and it was getting her down.

Mikey put his fingers under her chin and kissed her gently on the mouth.

‘Let me take care of you for a while, eh?’

He meant every word and Marie was grateful to him for his kindness. She needed a friend now. Mikey Devlin had turned out to be a much better man than she had anticipated and she was thankful to him.

‘Thanks, Mikey.’

She got out of the car and braced herself for Alan’s wrath. She knew how he felt about her and was sorry for him. It amazed her that she could attract both men even though they knew her past and her reputation. She concluded it was the fact she had no real interest in them that was the biggest draw. Because she didn’t have. any interest in them whatsoever. Men were trouble unless you could control them, as she intended to control Mikey and use him to help Tiffany.

Inside the Portakabin Alan had a fixed smile on his face. Marie tried to look businesslike and pleasant.

‘I heard about your father. I’m sorry,’ he said.

She placed her bag by her chair and turned on the computer.

Alan watched her warily.

‘How was Mikey? Have a good time?’

Marie turned to face him, her blonde hair falling across her face as she was still leaning over the desk.

‘Yes, thank you, Alan. Though the news about my father ruined the good time somewhat, as you can imagine.’

Her sarcasm hurt him but he still retaliated.

‘Not too badly though, eh?’

He was leering at her and even though he knew that what he was doing was wrong he couldn’t stop himself. Jealousy was a terrible affliction. Now he knew what had prompted his wife’s acid comments all those times he had been on the missing list.

Marie’s face was set and hard now. He felt the full force of her anger as she bellowed at him, ‘My sex life is my business, Alan.’

He was so angry all his good intentions went out of the window.

‘So you are having sex with him then?’

As soon as the words were out he regretted them. But it was too late to take them back now.

Marie looked almost manic as she shouted, ‘Look, Alan, I work for you, remember? You are not me fucking father, who incidentally

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is banged up at the moment because like you he stuck his big conk in where it wasn’t needed. If I want to see Mikey Devlin, I will, OK? And you can’t stop me.’

They stared at one another for long seconds. Their relationship had shifted up a gear and they were both aware of that. She looked into his handsome face. He was weak and she knew that but he was also a kind man deep inside. She was sorry that she affected him so much as she was aware she was not worth it. All this jealousy was not worth his effort.

Marie was no good and knew that deep inside. It was her bad luck that she had this effect on people. Trouble followed her wherever she went. Always had, and it looked as though it always would.

It had been the same in prison. Women got crushes on her, screws as well as inmates. It was as if she attracted the weak and the lonely, and she didn’t want them. Wanted no one in her life except her children and it was far too late for them, it seemed. All she wanted now was to help her babies. No more and no less. The rest of her life was mere existence. She really didn’t need or want this man’s love and he was too stupid to see that she would destroy him eventually. She never meant to do it, it just always seemed to happen. She picked up her bag.

‘I’m going, Alan, before we both say things we’ll really regret.’

He stood in the doorway, his face a picture of sadness.

‘I am sorry, Marie. Please don’t go.’

She looked at him. His face was crumpled with misery and she was so sorry for him she wanted to cry. She often wanted to cry lately.

‘Please, Marie, listen to me. Who’ll do my books, eh, if you walk out on me?’

She didn’t answer him.

He was desperate. If she walked out now he knew she would never come back. He had to build some bridges, try and minimise the damage he had done. He had to have her near him whatever it cost.

‘Come on, forget it. I was out of order. If you leave you won’t be able to get a flat, will you? You’ll have to get another job and everything. Let’s just let bygones be bygones and pretend it never happened.’

She placed her bag down on the floor and he felt a rush of relief so acute he was actually shaking with it. Never in his life had he felt

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like this about anyone. It was as if she had put him under some kind of spell.

‘I’m sorry, Marie. As if you haven’t got enough on your plate at the moment.’

She sat down on the typing chair and put her face in her hands. She was crying so quietly he didn’t realise what was happening for a moment. She was sobbing, her shoulders shaking with the effort of trying to stem the flow of tears.

He wanted to touch her, hold her to him, but he knew that if he did he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from wanting her there and then. Instead he put the kettle on and let her cry. Eventually, after what seemed an age, he took her the tea and saw that she had brought her feelings under control.

‘Why did my father do it, Al? It’s as if he’s gone mad and it’s all my fault. Everything is my fault somehow. Me poor mother, me sister, me father, me kids … it’s as if I’m cursed. Or I curse anyone who comes into contact with me.’

He placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

‘You aren’t cursed, Marie. You’re the victim really, a victim of your own looks and personality. You attract people, and unfortunately they’re sometimes the wrong people. But you have to keep trying to make it right, mate. It’s all you can do, it’s all any of us can do. Try and make everything turn out right.’

She stared into his eyes and the lure of her was so strong he wondered if he had been cursed too because he knew he would never look at another woman in the same way as he looked at her. She was in his blood, in his head, inside his very being, and he knew without a doubt that if he had to he would kill for her. That was how much she affected him.

‘I’m tired, Alan, tired of it all. I’m a magnet for trouble, always have been. I’m sick and tired of always having to be sorry, apologising for living. Ruining people’s lives without a second’s thought. Look at my daughter - look how she turned out. Patrick Connor has taken her and turned her into a watered-down version of me. Maybe it’s in the DNA, who the fuck knows?’

‘Like I said, all you can do is try and make it turn out right.’

She laughed sadly.

‘That’s a tall order, Alan. Jesus Christ Himself would have His work cut out sorting this lot.’

‘Drink your tea, mate. Things have a habit of sorting themselves out, you’ll see.’

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She tried to smile at him but it was so hard. She was fed up with putting on a brave face. Had been trying to do it for thirteen long years. It was getting harder and harder by the day.

‘What do you mean, Patrick?’

He lit her another pipe and handed it to Sadie before he carried on talking again. As she inhaled the crack he suppressed a smile. It was so easy to make them do what he wanted. He was losing interest in her now. Before the week was out he would have her where he wanted her. But he smiled at her anyway, one of the winning smiles that made him look so handsome and affable.